A Room Full of Shadows
by The Incredible Nameless Wonder
Summary: Every year she summoned him, and every year he took a soul that was not hers. When did she wish die? Rather, when did she wish to be taken to hell? She supposed it didn't matter anyway. She told herself it didn't as she stripped away the remainder of her purity. Next Halloween it would choose her, she was sure of it.


_**A Room Full of Shadows**_

_**Chapter One: Curious Shapes**_

_1932_

On one occasion or another, Lucy felt like a lion whose keeper left her cage door open. She would not leave it while she could, and when it was shut and locked she would dream she did. Perhaps it's because she was afraid to be free, the cage was all she'd ever known.

When her dreams for escape and the sky outside were pushed to the back of her mind by the reality of her situation, sometimes she would even smile. Despite her fall, which she had to admit had not been from a very high place to begin with, she was able to stir enough happy memories to make-believe she was living them.

As she tugged on the laces of her dress, Lucy imagined pulling them so tight her spine broke. She had thought of such things before, especially when her back hurt from too many rehearsals. How easy it would be to simply break the dreadful thing? True, she'd have to find alternative methods of walking and sub-sequentially functioning, but she would do it if she could. A bit of relief in general would have been a welcome change from hard work and painful grins.

She'd hoped that it would come by the end of October, as it had in every other show she'd been a part of. Halloween was a sacred night, where no freak who valued their soul preformed. It was an act of self-preservation, that was a certainty to her, but how could one risk putting their friends and family in harms way? Lucy thought the reason for abstaining was common knowledge, but apparently not.

Lucy sat with Ethel in the large common tent when the news was delivered. The large room was silent as the grave while the ring leader spoke about increased salaried for shows on a controversial date. Lucy bit her lip, silently waiting for him to finally say it. When he did, however, disappointment still gripped her with iron claws. There would be a show that night, a show on Halloween. The rest of the freaks had gasped, along with the bearded woman next to her. She, however, could not bring herself to do so. For as long as she'd been alive, Lucy knew why to do such a thing was to condemn a friend, or possibly yourself.

She was young when she first heard the tale of Edward Mordrake. Not quite an infant and yet not quite a child, she stood by the door as the ring leader told the story. Lucy had not been the only child in the sideshow, but she was certainly the least decisive. She had one foot out the tent the entire time, and both ears fixed on what was being said.

As cold as she felt when it was done, Lucy was not afraid. The next day she asked it be told again, and sat with the other children who all hung on every word.

"Are they mad?" Ethel hissed through her teeth, sounding angrier than she had ever heard. Lucy decided to keep her opinion on the subject to herself and simply shrugged. She had to admit, however, that the answer, to her, was _yes, yes they were. _

"Perhaps." She replied. "But can you blame them? Say what you will about the myth but you can't deny we'll bring in plenty of extra cash." Ethel shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. A few of the freaks looked borderline agitated as opposed to shocked or annoyed. Those whose pass times of preference were more risque figuratively clung to their liquor bottles and whores.

"It's not right." The woman insisted, her voice foreboding and grim. Lucy nodded, agreeing with her completely. It _wasn't_ right, forcing them to preform when it went against their wishes. In fact it stepped on everything freak show performers believed in. There was no escape, however, and the fate of one of them seemed inevitable.

Lucy stood when everyone else did, her lack of visible fright a disturbance to all including herself. She stayed near Ethel, linking an arm in hers as the freaks were bid to return to their tents and rest for the show in a few short hours. Accepting the repertoire from the ring leader as she left, she thumbed through it. Lucy felt her stomach twist as she followed her friend, accepting a flask of scotch from her willingly.

Ethel smacked her hand when Lucy drank nearly half of the bottle in one gulp before returning it to her. Dimly, she smiled when her friend swore that would be the very last time she shared any liquor with her. Of course, she had said that every time she _did _shared hooch with her anyway. Drinking was meant to be done with friends, and Ethel knew that as well as anyone else. Lucy did not know where her taste for it stemmed, but found it to be a decent replacement for water.

Unless, of course, she was preforming. Going on stage drunk was perhaps the worst choice you could make at the sideshow. If you were like Lucy, balance was everything. While she was singing, yes, she needed to be steady, but if she were to fall while dancing? Lucy knew she would fired so quickly her head would spin from the force of it.

So Lucy laughed and passed the bottle back to her friend, before commenting on the terrible repertoire for the Halloween act. As Lucy expected, Ethel didn't even want to speak about it, which she understood to some extent.

"It's happening, Ethel," Lucy began, "you might as well accept it." The bearded woman shook her head, saying that she would worm her way out of it if it killed her.

_You might just die either way. _Lucy thought grimly, but it was too late for her. She resigned herself to the fact that the show would happen, her only comfort was her firm belief that there was no such thing as ghosts.

The walk from the common tent to hers was a short one, despite the many that there were. The Barnum and Bailey sideshow was one of the largest in America, and easily the most profitable. How that was, Lucy did not know, as she was certain the Depression would lower ticket sales. The truth was anything but, and it wasn't long before she realized a good laugh was what people needed.

Lucy tried her best to be entertaining, to relieve some of the pain from the lives of their customers. It left her crotchety and empty in her spare time. On stage, however, Lucy was all smiles, hips and bright looks. She lived for applause and drink it up with relish. It gave her the fuel she needed to preform mundane tasks that would have killed her otherwise.

The performance on Halloween, Lucy thought, would _not_ revitalize her in the least. She'd never liked the holiday to begin with, and found its morals to be very spotty. Coupled with the fact that the repertoire was haunting at best and she was completely certain that the night would drag on.

At least she knew she wouldn't have to change much about her appearance to fit the theme. Lucy looked enough like a ghost, with barely any pigment in her hair and skin. The only scrap of color to her was the wide, red eyes set into her thin face.

Albino men were a surplus in the show, but she was the only woman. She didn't like what they'd billed her as, but she was not in a position to complain. Somehow, she found The Snow Queen to be a bit unoriginal, as well as informing the audience that she'd been found frozen in Antarctica for two-hundred and fifty years. Still, it gave the adults a laugh and the children wide eyes filled with wonder and all of the eyes in the room were on her.

She parted ways with Ethel and swept back to her tent in a flurry of white hair and rainy temperament. Lucy scowled a bit darker than usual at the sign above the entrance to her tent as she let herself in. Turning the dial on the kerosene lamp beside her bed, she smiled as shadows filled the room. She never felt safe in the dark, and preferred even the faintest spot of light as opposed to nothing.

Silently, she waited out the hours before the moon rose, and the show began. Tonight would be big, whether or not Edward Mordrake came to visit.

As soon as the curtain parted several hours later, Lucy knew something was amiss. Goosebumps blossomed on her white skin as a chill passed through the air. Even the heavy organ music from behind her as she danced could not hide the otherworldly stillness in the air.

When the song came to an end, Lucy wondered if she should have requested a ghost light. The stage she preformed on was portable, but was left standing late at night. The last thing she wanted, despite her belief that ghosts _were not real_, was for her or her troupe to be cursed.

Slowly, as the night wore on, Lucy felt her anxiety mount and her desperate, internal shouting disproving the existence of ghosts became faint. She had not sung a note and yet her voice was quite nearly hoarse as she approached the microphone.

Her voice rung out and was met with crushing stillness. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see the empty theater in front of her. She was surrounded by an audience, and yet could not see any of them. Lucy was singing for spirits, and she drew them into the tent with her voice.

Opening her eyes, her voice nearly cracked as she stared at the entrance of the tent. Standing there, clad all in black and wearing a top hat not unlike the ring leader's, was a man. The look on his face was calm, but became increasingly murky as the performance wore on.

Something about him unnerved poor Lucy, who was ready to faint from the suspense. Something would happen that night, and she hoped it was soon rather than later.

She was shaking when the song ended. The applause did not fill her like it did the night before, but instead echoed in her hollow bones as she forced a smile and walked backstage. Lucy hugged herself with thin arms, wishing her dress were warmer. A chill had descended into the field where the sideshow had assembled for the winter season.

All she wanted was to return to her tent, but something stopped her. The man who stood at the exit was now gone. Scanning the room, Lucy was shocked to find that he seemed to disappear entirely. Unsettled but undaunted, Lucy left the tent and hurried back to her room.

While not a headliner, she was important enough among the acts to have earned herself a decently-sized living space. Wooden boards under her feet provided stability and relief from the damp ground. Pushed against one side of the tent was her wardrobe, and it was where she found herself soon after rushing off.

She ran a hand over the dark wood as she threw open the doors of it. Her corset made her already weak back ache terribly, and she was quick to be rid of it. The skirt she wore quickly followed suit, floating to the ground in a mess of pale blue frills. Lucy groaned as she examined the skin of her hips, realizing they'd been rubbed raw by the harsh fabric. She shrugged on her dressing gown and replaced the thin high heels on her feet with flat shoes.

More comfortable than she had been, Lucy began to relax as the strain was lifted from her shoulders. While every inch of her ached from the show, the familiar post-applause buzz began to settle in. She supposed it was better late than never, as it usually dominated her senses moments after the audience began to cheer.

Pulling back her waxy-pale hair, Lucy hummed to herself. Edward Mordrake would not come that night, she was certain of it. Confident in her new found refusal to believe in the supernatural, Lucy took her hand mirror from the top shelf before closing her wardrobe door.

Inspecting her makeup in her mirror, she was disgusted to find it smeared beyond recognition. Visibly upset for the umpteenth time that night, she crossed the room to her water basin and dipped a cloth in the now-frigid water. Holding her mirror to eye-level, she rubbed away at the black markings beneath.

Had she not tilted it slightly to the right, what followed may never have happened. But she did and she let out a pathetic excuse for a noise of distress when she caught sight of a figure standing just behind her.

It was a girl, a beautiful girl who was just as pale as Lucy. She stared at Lucy in the mirror with three big, dead eyes. Two were on either side of her face, where they were supposed to be, while the last was set right in the middle of her forehead.

The mirror clattered to the ground, shattering into tiny pieces when it made impact. Lucy whipped around and narrowly avoided stepping in the collection of glass fragments. All she saw was still air.

Her hands shook as she turned again, hoping to see the girl again to prove to herself that her mind was not playing tricks. Minutes passed with no sign of her, and the frayed remains of her nerves began to settle. That was, until, she looked to her doorway.

Lucy floundered as green mist poured in from under the cracks of the blue-and-white striped canvas. Unable to make a noise, the tension mounted until it was so thick she could cut it with a knife.

Her chest was so tight with fear that she could barely gasp when the man she had seen watching the show from the back appeared. He was just behind her, and she turned so sharply that she felt pain nearly erupt in her spine.

Letting out a choke gasp, Lucy blinked before she let her fear consume her. She fell to the floor in a dead faint.

* * *

><p><strong><em>I hear and obey, and thus here is my Edward-centric fic! Good gracious I liked writing this! Fics that are heavy in the atmosphere department are so much fun!<em>**

**_And yes, yes I did put Ethel in this. I love Ethel, okay you guys? Love. Her._**

**_Also what is this crap? Edward doesn't have a character tag yet? Ugh, for shame, . For shame!_**

**_Let me know what you think or hit me upside the head if this is all wrong. Have an awesome day, guys!_**


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